Don't Tell Mum The Babysitter's Dead
by Myra109
Summary: When Molly and Arthur go on their first vacation since Bill was born, they hire a babysitter to take care of their kids. When the caretaker dies in her sleep, Percy is unable to get ahold of his older brothers and steps up to the plate to care for his younger siblings. How will they manage three entire months on their own? AU, based off of the movie under the same name
1. You're Not Gonna Believe This

_This won the poll in a landslide with 14 votes (30%), followed by Blood Does Not Make Family with 8 votes (17%). Thank you to everyone who voted! Your participation is greatly appreciated (that sounded like an answering machine, but I'm still grateful)._

_I tried to keep Percy as in character as possible, at least until his character can develop, but if he's out of character, it's because it works better with the story._

_This is based off of the movie under the same name._

_Takes place the summer before Ron's first year, so they haven't met Harry or anything. Charlie has already moved to Romania, and Bill is still in Egypt._

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or the characters, including the Weasleys. I own nothing except for my OCs.**

* * *

I hated Lucy Miller with a passion, and considering I am one of the most respectful people that you will ever meet, that's saying something.

My name is Percy Weasley and I am three months away from my fifteenth birthday.

For the first time in nearly twenty-five years, my parents were going on a vacation and I was truly happy for them to be able to escape my chaotic younger siblings. That was until I met the babysitter.

Ms. Miller was this wrinkly old hag that could've been two hundred years old or older. She looked like a shriveled, pale monster with frail hands that seemed to be all bones and sagging skin. Her dress was a light pink and covered in flowers with a crisp hot pink jacket over it. Slouching, she looked like her bones were liquidifying and leaving a weak woman behind that was moments from collapse. Despite this, she smiled with rotting teeth.

"Hello, little boy," she rasped, like a creepy villain in a fairy tale.

Evil Queen, I thought, biting my lip to keep from snickering at the resemblance between this woman and the hag Evil Queen had turned into when she gave Snow White the poisoned apple.

"My name is Ms. Miller, the babysitter," she continued, breaking me out of my train of thought.

The fact that she was calling me a little boy made me want to snap at her, but I forced myself to bite my lip and stand straighter in order to tower over her. "Yes, I'm Percy, the oldest."

I stepped back for her to shuffle past and Mum raced into the kitchen to greet her.

"Hello, Ms. Miller. I thank you deeply for being able to take care of five kids for three months. Not many are willing to do that," Mum giggled, shaking the old lady's skeletal hand in greeting. "I see you've already met Percy. He's the oldest and the most responsible; he'll help you with anything you need. The others are upstairs."

She turned back, just as Dad entered the kitchen with the final suitcase. "We best be on our way," my mother announced. "Percy, tell your siblings to behave and although you probably won't need the warning, that applies to you too."

Mum smiled and kissed me on the cheek before dashing out of the house, followed by Dad, who smiled and said a rash goodbye to me.

When I turned back to face Ms. Miller, I saw that she had straightened so she was only a half inch shorter than me. She no longer looked like that frail old lady that had entered the house moments before; she now held an aura of firmness like a General.

"What's your name again?" She demanded.

"Percy," I responded.

"Is that short for something?"

"Percival," I answered with a barely concealed glare. I hated my full name; I vaguely wondered why I referred to my siblings by their full names when I hated mine so much.

"I'll be calling you that from now on. Get your siblings; we will be having dinner in half an hour and I want the chores done by nine o'clock, so you best begin now," she ordered.

I marched up the steps to the twins' room and knocked on the door before just opening it without permission. Through gritted teeth, I reported, "The babysitter has arrived and wants us downstairs."

Before both of them could yell at me to get out or something along those lines, I shut the door and continued onto Ginny's room. Since this was my little sister, I knocked and waited for her to yell come in before opening it. Ron was in there for some reason, which was good for me because it saved me a trip and an explanation.

"The babysitter has arrived and she wants us downstairs."

They nodded and I shut the door, descending the steps into the living room. Fred and George had obeyed and now sat on the couch, looking at Ms. Miller with disgusted stares. My littlest siblings followed me and we all sat on the couch or in one of the many chairs.

"Stand up!" Ms. Miller snapped and we all jolted in suprise before leaping to our feet. "What are your names?"

"Fred."

"Geor-"

"Full names!" She commanded.

All of us were miffed by this but obeyed.

"Fredrick."

"George."

"Ronald."

"Ginevra."

"I will be addressing you by your full names from now on. Now, let's start with the rules," she said.

"Rules? We know the rules!" Fred glared.

"Yeah! We've lived here for thirteen years and the Prat over there has lived here even longer!" George agreed, stabbing a thumb at me.

"You have just broken my first rule!" Ms. Miller told them, harshly. "No back talk."

"We're just stating a fact!" Fred defended.

"Second rule: you will do all of your assigned chores and be in bed by nine thirty sharp. You will be up and ready by seven thirty AM," she stated, sternly.

"What?" Ron looked scandalized. "It's summer; we should be allowed to sleep in and stay up late."

"Unorganized schedules stem children's mental and physical growth," she countered. "Rule three: you will dress nicely and look your best at all times. I will be tutoring you and you will always use your manners."

Fred snorted.

Ms. Miller glowered at him. "That's it; you just got saddled with bathroom cleaning duty."

"What?" Fred squawked.

"Do you want to have your mouth duck taped shut?" She snapped.

"Hey!" I stepped in. "Ms. Miller, as much as I would love to be able to shut Fredrick up, duck taping his mouth shut is crossing the line in my book. And they're kids; they shouldn't have to be up at the crack of dawn and in bed before sunset."

My siblings looked shocked that I had stood up for them. To tell the truth, I was stunned as well.

Ms. Miller pointed a crooked finger at me. "Percival, you just earned yourself an early awakening. I expect you up by six, young man."

"He's up by five, anyway," I heard Fred mutter to George, and his mirror image nodded in agreement.

"Now, we must get started on the chores. Percival, you wash the dishes. George, do the laundry. Fredrick, clean the bathrooms and Ronald, you are in charge of cleaning the kitchen. Ginerva, I would like to see you upstairs," she instructed and we set to work, each knashing our teeth.

I filled the sinks with water, squirting soap into one, while the others attended to their chores. Fred dug around in the cupboards until coming up with cleanser and stomping into the downstairs bathroom. Meanwhile, George had disappeared into the laundry room and I was praying that I wouldn't be drowning in bubbles after he was done. Finally, Ron grabbed a wash cloth and began wiping down the table, which was stained and encrusted with food marks since almost everyone in our family made a mess while eating.

"I hate that babysitter!" Ron growled.

"For once, I agree with you," I murmured, scrubbing at a dish harder than was probably necessary.

"Really?" Ron gasped. His face was priceless, but I was too angry to notice.

"Well, of course I do. She calls me Percival and yells at my little brothers. I just hope that she doesn't scream at Ginny or she's got trouble coming her way," I mumbled, angrily, talking more to myself than to Ron.

Ron, looking a little frightened, nodded.

"We gotta get rid of her!" Ginny snarled as she marched in. Ron dropped his washcloth with a _plop!_ I was so shocked, I dropped the plate I was holding into the sink with a crash as it broke into a bunch of sharp pieces.

Ginny had been wearing jean shorts that reached her knees with a green T-shirt and her hair pulled back in a ponytail. She'd been running around all morning and dust had glued to her sneakers, but now... now, she didn't look my little sister.

The nine year old was wearing a pink dress that flowed around her calves and it was so poofy, it almost swallowed the little girl that wore it. Her red hair was loose, pulled over her shoulders except for a few strands pulled back and held by a pink bow. Even her shoes were girly- silver flats that made Ginny wince and stumble when she tried to walk. Her pretty princess appearance contrasted with the rageful glare upon her freckled face.

"We are getting rid of that witch!" She almost yelled.

"I agree," Ron piped up, venom in his voice as he practically tried to scrub a hole in the counter with his rag.

"Okay," I relented. "Let me finish the dishes and I'll go talk to her."

Not thinking about it, I thrust my hands back into the water and I cried out, biting back a string of curse words that would make a sailor blush.

"What's wrong?" Ginny yelped in surprise.

"Okay," I said through my teeth, which were gritted in pain, "I will talk to Ms. Miller after I do the dishes, clean the glass out of the sink, and bandage my hands."

My little sister placed the first aid kit on the counter and I retracted my hands, feeling nauseous at the sight of the blood streaming down my wrists.

What a perfect way to start my summer (note the sarcasm).

* * *

"Ms. Miller, we need to talk," I said as I walked into her bedroom (more accurately, my parents' room since she was staying in there). She was sitting in an arm chair in front of the TV with her back to me. "I've had it. You've been yelling at my brothers, ordering us around as if we're dogs, and dressing my Tom Boy sister up like a doll. It isn't right."

No response.

"Are you even listening to me?" I demanded.

Nothing.

"Ms. Miller." I spun her chair around and saw that her eyes were closed and her mouth wide open. I shook her shoulder. Nothing.

Taking a deep breath, I held two fingers against her neck and felt no pulse beneath my fingers.

"Oh my goodness," I whispered.

I backed out of the room in horror and ran down the hall to knock on the twins' door before just opening it.

Fred opened his mouth, but I cut him off.

"Come on. You're not gonna believe this."

* * *

_I know it's not as good as some of my other stories, but to be perfectly honest, this is more of a fun story than a serious story, which is why it isn't as descriptive as some of my other stories. I am not sure how many chapters this story will have total._

_Anyway, thanks for reading, and please leave a review. All reviews are fantastic; constructive criticism is appreciated; and all flames will be ignored and reported if necessary._


	2. We're On Our Own

_Sorry about the wait, guys. Time just got away from me. Anyway, here is chapter 2. Please__ ignore the awful logic and the fact that Percy is smarter than this..._

_WARNINGS: NONE REALLY. MS. MILLER DIES, BUT THAT'S ABOUT THE ONLY WARNING FOR THE STORY, AT LEAST FOR NOW._

**_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or the characters or anything that you recognize. It all belongs to JK Rowling, and I thank her for letting me borrow the character. This story is based off of the movie Don't Tell Mom The Babysitter's Dead, so credit goes to the movie for inspiring this story._**

* * *

"What are we gonna do with her body?" Ron mumbled, a slight tremor in his voice.

"Um," I frantically tried to come up with a plan, "We should take her down to the funeral home. I remember she mentioned to Mum over the phone that she had no family, so if we leave her on the steps, no one will know who she is or that she was our sitter. It can't be traced back to us."

"Because if that happened everyone would blame us," Fred finished.

I nodded, grimly. "What do we do after that? We need some ideas."

"Mum and Dad?" Ginny suggested. I vaguely noticed that she had changed into her blue night dress, a hand me down from our cousin, Erika.

I shook my head. "No, we can't interrupt their vacation and if we told them, they'd blame us. We should try to manage as long as we can without telling them."

George tilted his head and shrugged. "Bill or Charlie?"

"I've thought about that. I'm thinking we manage tonight and I'll call them in the morning," I replied. "But we need a back up plan. What with them being out of the country, it might be hard to reach them."

"Well, we're NOT staying with Aunt Muriel," Ron demanded and we all nodded in agreement. No Aunt Muriel. Ever.

"So if we can't get ahold of Bill or Charlie, we try to go three months on our own. If things get out of hand, we call Mum and Dad. Deal?" I offered and there were noises of agreement throughout the room.

I sighed. "Okay... Fred, George, go get that old trunk from the attic- the one that belonged to Dad's brother before he gave it to us. Bring it down here. Ron, Ginny, go get two sheets from the closet next door."

My siblings scurried off and I rummaged through a drawer, pulling out a pad of a paper and a pen. Quickly, I scrawled down, 'The Old Lady Inside Died of Natural Causes.' Hopefully, that would make sure the police didn't launch into an immediate murder investigation and just get an Autopsy to prove her cause of death. We can hope anyway.

Ron and Ginny rushed back in with the oldest sheets- white ones patterned with green dots from Ginny's first big girl bed. I nodded my thanks and took them. Wrapping her body in them, I turned back just as the twins entered, dragging the trunk in their wake.

Grinning weakly, I opened it and the twins scrambled over to help me lift Ms. Miller and place her in the trunk. It held her thin body with plenty of room and then, I realized something.

"How are we gonna get her to the funeral home?" I asked.

Fred grinned a wicked smile. "Didn't Bill teach you how to drive?"

"Yeah, and Mum nearly bit his head off for it. Why?"

George matched his twin's smirk. "Just bring the car around front."

With a suspicious glint in my eyes, I walked to the garage and hopped into the car.

Yes, I do know how to drive. Bill taught me when Dad first got the vehicle, which was when I was twelve, and taught me how to drive it. Mum nearly killed him when she found out.

Stopping the car in front of the house, the twins raced out of the house, tugging the trunk along with them, and stuffing it into the very back seat of the van. Fred hopped in front and handed me a small, laminated card with my picture and information on it with last year's date.

"A fake drivers licence? When did you make this?" I asked, outraged that Fred and George were breaking so many rules right now.

Fred smirked. "When you learned how to drive. I had a feeling we'd need it and you looked fifteen when you were twelve, so with some convincing, the cops would be convinced you were just an under developed sixteen year old."

I stared at him. "You really thought this through, didn't you?"

"Yep," Fred laughed, popping the p.

"Children," I murmured and George chuckled.

"You're a child, Percy."

"But I'm more mature than you," I pointed out.

"Because you're uptight!"

"You know what, George, you can take your jokes and... okay, let's just drive before we poison our little brother and sister's mind," I controlled myself, gritting my teeth.

"We've heard worse!" Ron shouted from the back seat.

"I know!" I agreed. "When you were three, you decided to use the new word the twins taught you and cuss out the mediwitch!"

"What'd I call her?" Ron asked.

"If I tell you, you'll use it again. Now, Fred, George, get the trunk; we're here," I said and the twins lugged the trunk onto the porch of the funeral home before hightailing it out of there. They hopped into the van, hidden by the bushes surrounding the home, just as two men came out and rounded the trunk, staring at it.

"We better go," I said and we quickly drove away, back to the Burrow.

As soon as we pulled up, I ordered the kids to go to bed, and after the hectic night we had, they didn't object.

I lied in bed and tried to sleep, but I found it incredibly hard. I just kept thinking of what I was going to tell Bill and Charlie tomorrow if I got ahold of them.

"Hey, Bill, um, we have a predicament." No, too formal. How do you even announce someone's death?

"We regret to inform you that Ms. Miller has passed away." No... just no.

"Um, Ms. Miller died." Too abrupt.

I groaned, quietly, and rolled over onto my side.

After some time, I fell asleep.

* * *

Even though sleep had come slowly the night before, I was awake before anyone else and decided to get the awkward phone call over with.

Bring! Bring! Bring!

"I'm sorry, but the phone number you are trying to reach is out of range. Please try again later," an automated female voice chirped.

"Dang it," I muttered under my breath before trying again. I got the same message.

I tried a third time. Same message.

"Stupid piece of junk," I growled as I slammed the phone down in frustration, rubbing my brow in worry.

What were we going to do now?

I reluctantly gave up for the time being and walked into the kitchen to make breakfast for my siblings.

I hadn't really tried to cook before, but looks like I'll have to. I decided to start with making something simple, and maybe by the end of the year, I'll be able to cook like Mum.

I threw some toast in the toaster and some peanut butter on the table before placing the fruit bowl in the center with a few butter knives.

I had just placed the last plate (each plate had two pieces of toast on it) when my siblings wandered in.

"What's for breakfast?" Fred yawned.

"Peanut butter toast and fruit," I responded.

"Peanut butter toast and fruit?" George repeated.

"I can't cook. Would you rather have charred sausage and watery eggs?" I asked.

"Good point," Fred said.

"I don't care," Ron spoke up from his seat at the table. "Food is food."

"Thank you, Ron. Now, I tried to call Bill and Charlie, and the call didn't get through. Until I can reach them, we're on our own," I said.

The rest of breakfast was eaten in a silence that no one wished to break.

Three months. I had to take care of my four siblings for three months, or at least until I could reach Bill and Charlie.

I sighed, quietly, as the truth truly hit me for the first time.

We were on our own.

* * *

_Is Percy smart enough to realize that trying to manage on their own for three months is a horrible plan and that there were dozens of better courses of action? Yes. But this story is just for fun, so I am ignoring all logic! Thanks for reading, and thanks to everyone who reviewed!_


	3. Jobs And Punishments

_I have no excuses, especially since this chapter has been completed for around a year and I just forgot about it, so I'm just going to jump right into it._

**_Disclaimer: I own nothing except for my Original Characters._**

* * *

3: JOBS AND PUNISHMENTS

Percy didn't know what to do anymore.

He'd only been 'parent' for an hour, and already, he wanted to get on his knees and beg for God to put him out of his misery.

First, Fred and George nearly blow up the house, followed by cutting off a few of locks of Ginny's hair, giving her a bald spot. Then, Ron stole Ginny's doll for unknown reasons and refused to give it back, resulting in a huge fight. Finally, Fred and George started wrestling, and they won't stop.

"Stop it. Fred, George, I swear if you don't-"

CRASH!"

"FREDRICK AND GEORGE WEASLEY, STOP WRESTLING RIGHT NOW OR YOU WILL BE CLEANING THIS ENTIRE HOUSE WITH TOOTHBRUSHES!"

Everyone froze. Percy had sounded so much like their mother right then, it was eerie.

"Now," he sighed. "Look, I'm not Mum and I'm not Dad. I'm not a parent or even an adult; the least you could do is try to help me out a little bit! Fred, George, clean up this mess, or you get no dinner tonight."

"But-"

"No buts. Until I can get a hold of Bill and Charlie, I am in charge, but we all know I'm in way over my head. Please, listen to me. After we fix all this, we'll discuss a plan. Okay?"

"Fine," the twins grumbled.

"Now, Ron, give Ginny her doll back and apologize."

Ron sighed before reaching behind the arm chair and handing Ginny a rag doll their mother had given her.

"Sorry, Gin."

"Now, Ginny, apologize to Ron for calling him a snot nosed brat that was going nowhere in life."

"Sorry, Ron."

"And Ginny, stop hanging out with the twins. They're starting to rub off on you. Ron, I know you didn't make the mess, but help the twins while I figure out how to fix Ginny's hair."

Ron opened his mouth to protest, but Percy turned on his hell and escorted Ginny into the kitchen.

"Alright, I'll be using Charlie's old wand, so pray this works, okay?" He told her.

He used a tape measure to measure the length of her hair before waving the wand.

"Crescartous six inches," he said, waving the wand over the blade spot. The hair automatically grew back.

"Now, go help the others."

"But-"

"Ginny, I grew your hair back. I can easily cut it back off."

That got her moving as she nodded and went back into the living room.

Percy grabbed the newspaper, opening it up to the jobs section, and stepping back into the room.

"Why aren't you helping?" Fred demanded as he and George worked on sweeping up some broken glass from a vase.

"I'm looking for a job."

"A job?" Ron asked, incredulous.

"Yes, Ronald, one of those things people have so that they can make money. Ever heard of one?" Percy said, sarcasm dripping from his voice.

"Yeah, but why are you looking for a job?" George asked.

"Well, we don't have much in the vault, so I need to make money somehow. Preferably something close by that pays well."

"Why don't you work at the Ministry?" Fred asked.

"News flash, Fred, I have to be eighteen."

"Yeah, but you look twenty. With the right forged paperwork, we could get you a job there."

"You know, you may be onto something here," Percy said, "but even so, I won't get a well paying job due to how young I look and that I'm a beginner when it comes to working there. I'll probably work there during the day, and find a night job."

"When are you gonna sleep?" Ginny asked.

"Ginny, I go to school and study all night and still find time to sleep. I'm sure I can manage this."

"All right," she said, wearily, "just don't, like, collapse on us or anything."

He smiled at her. "I won't, Gin, don't worry."

While they finished cleaning up, he skimmed through the jobs, looking for a night job.

"Hey, what about this?" He said. "That restaurant in Diagon Alley- Charley's? The one ran by that old, but really nice guy?"

His siblings nodded.

"They need waiters to take the afternoon and night shifts. I'd work there from four thirty to seven. I could work at the Ministry about seven to three. Come home, and then go to Charley's. That sound alright?"

The others exchanged glances before shrugging.

"Fine by me," the twins said in tandem.

"I'm good with it," Ron agreed.

"As long as you don't overwork yourself," Ginny said.

"Well, in that case, the interview's today. Short one at three thirty. No call required; just show up. They take anyone fifteen and up, so if anyone asks, I'm at least fifteen.

"But I am trusting you to not destroy the house or each other or get into any trouble while I'm gone. Don't make me regret it, or I'll make you regret disobeying me. Got it?"

"Yes, sir, yes, sir!" The twins said with identical salutes.

The other two nodded, sniffling laughs.

"Well, it's three, so I'd better get going. And we'll work out the Ministry thing when I get back," he told them before waving and flooing to Charley's.

"'Ello!" A voice chirped as soon as he stepped out of the fireplace. "I presume you're here for the interview?"

"Yes, sir."

Charley was this old guy with tan skin and laugh lines all around his blue eyes. His head was balding, and what little hair he possessed was silver like the moon. He always wore green for some reason, and Percy didn't think he ever stopped smiling.

"Well, the interviews quick. Only four, maybe five questions. One, how old are you?"

"Twenty two," Percy lied.

"Identification?"

He handed him his driver's license- the one the twins forged- and Charley read the date of birth (the twins had changed it before he left to fool people into thinking he was 22).

"Good. Now, what shifts can you take?"

"Afternoon and/or night," he said.

"And? How badly do you need the job?"

"Badly. Four kids. I had them young, and I do not recommend it."

"Mother in the picture?"

"No, she left after we had our latest child. Said she couldn't handle four, and I wasn't about to abandon them, so I'm on my own."

"I know the feeling. I had twin sons when I was in high school, and two before I was twenty-five, none of them planned. My wife died in childbirth."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't worry, it was a long time ago. Children all grown, healthy; I'm remarried. Anyway, last question. Are you willing to give this job your all- hard work, time, everything you've got?"

"I always do."

"That's what I like to hear. Percy Weasley, consider yourself hired."

Percy smiled as he shook the man's hand.

"Thank you, sir. You won't be disappointed."

"I know I won't," he said. "Your first shift is tomorrow, starting at four in the afternoon. You can work as long as you need, but I won't let you work past midnight. We don't need a young man like you dropping dead on us, do we?"

Percy laughed. "Definitely not. Have a nice day, sir."

"You, too."

Percy left the restaurant, having a mental celebration. He'd actually gotten the job! He actually hadn't expected to pull this off.

As soon as he returned home, he hugged the twins, who were standing by the door, and scared their pants off (not literally).

"I got the job!" Percy exclaimed.

"That's amazing!" Fred shouted.

"Now, if you can get the Ministry job, we'll be golden," George added.

"Speaking of that, I need you two to help me with my resume."

"Why us?"

"Because I'm going to need some second opinions on how to be impressive."

"Alright. Let's do some first class lying," Fred cheered.

"I really shouldn't be encouraging this," Percy muttered, but he sat down on the couch with the twins on either side of him, and Ron and Ginny across from him I the arm chairs.

"Alright," he said. "What should I start with?"

"Well, definitely say that you were a Prefect and Head Boy. The Ministry looks for those kinds of things," Fred advised, reading a passage from the book in his lap.

"Where did you get that?" Percy asked.

"It's Dad's birthday present for you. Just don't tell him I showed you."

Percy shrugged. "All right. But if they find out what we're doing, that'll be the least of our worries."

"Agreed," Ginny said.

"All right. What else?"

"Say you got twelve O.W.L.S and twelve N.E.W.T.S," George said. "And put your job at Charley's down."

"Wait!" Ron suddenly said.

Percy looked up. "What?"

"What are we going to do about your hair?"

"What about it?" Fred asked.

Percy sighed. "Oh, shoot, I didn't even realize that."

"What do you mean?" Ginny asked.

"The red hair is a Weasley trademark. Anyone who sees my hair will know I'm a Weasley, and someone will know which one I am and-"

"Rat you out," George finished.

"Dang it," Fred muttered.

"I'll figure that out tomorrow. I'll apply on Monday, but in the mean time, it's 6:30. I'll make dinner. Fred, George, showers while I'm cooking, Ron and Ginny, after dinner."

They nodded before departing.

"Percy," Ginny said as bed time neared. "Could you tell us a story?"

Percy smiled. "Sure. What topic?"

"Dragons!" The twins cried.

"Princesses!" Ginny said.

"Hogwarts!" Ron cheered.

"How about all three?" Percy asked.

"Yeah!" They chorused.

"I think that's the first time I've ever heard you four agree on something," Percy laughed. "Not so long ago, there was a prince named Henry, and he had everything a person could ask for. Fame, riches, his name in the history books, but he was also very lonely.

"You see, Henry had lost his parents when he was very young, and he lived with an awful aunt and uncle that hated him. With no siblings and only a cousin that was treated like a king, Henry was treated like a slave.

"Until he turned eleven when he was accepted to Hogwarts. There he met his best friend, Ron," Percy said, laughing at the look on Ron's face, "and his other best friend, Haley. They went on all kinds of adventures together, but the real excitement came when they were twelve.

"A bad person, who's name I shall not speak, was killing the students at Hogwarts. He would sic dragons and basilisks and all kinds of awful snakes on the unsuspecting children. These children were put into comas, simply by looking at the beasts the evil man had sent. Henry's friend, Hayley, was one of the last to be put into a coma.

"In a surprising twist, one of the beasts, a dragon, did not kill one girl. She was a very brave girl, headstrong, determined. Can you guess her name?"

"Ginny," the three younger boys yawned while Ginny smiled.

"Instead, the dragon took her beneath the school to a secret room. Ginny was Ron's sister, and he and Henry went into the chamber to rescue her.

"Henry and Ron defeated the dragon together, and they rescued Ginny in the process.

"I suppose you're wondering where the princess comes into the story. Well, when Henry was seventeen, he discovered that his parents were not just two heroes that got in trouble with a dark wizard. They were also the King and Queen of England, and Henry had been taken from his crib that night. Therefore, England was missing the heir to the throne for many years.

"As twenty one and twenty year olds, Henry and Ginny married. Living in a tall castle with Ron and his wife, Hayley (they married; ironic, considering they always fought), they were happy. A few years later, they had three children, and even though they were rich enough to buy private tutors and such, they sent those children to Hogwarts because that was where their story had begun.

"And they all lived Happily Ever After."

The four Weasleys snored, peacefully, on the couch and the arm chairs; Percy, not wanting to wake them, draped blankets over their slumbering bodies and placed pillows under their heads.

He smiled from the doorway of the living room.

So this was what being a father felt like.

It really was an amazing feeling.

* * *

_Did Percy basically predict the future with that story? Maybe._


End file.
